


A wrong turn can lead to the right way

by beyond_the_nights_world



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Being Lost, Hospitals, Hurt Misha Collins, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, New Year's Eve, Snow, maybe some pg18 later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28407567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_the_nights_world/pseuds/beyond_the_nights_world
Summary: While driving to a chalet to celebrate New Year's Eve with members of the SPN-Crew, Jensen and Misha got lost in the woods. A fatal accident leads to Jensen realizing that is is time to get some things right, even if it may cost a friendship
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wishing all my followers, readers, kudo-givers and friends a HAPPY NEW YEAR

The shadows fled, squeezing through the narrow gaps between the trunks of the aspens and spruces as soon as the glare of the flashlight threatened to hit them. Jensen stumbled through the snow-covered undergrowth, trying not to lose sight of the distant warm glow of the chalet. He laboriously sucked in the cold air, trying to fill his lungs and oxygenate his body. Jensen was fit, even if he would never run a marathon like Jared. His job entailed taking care of himself. Now, however, he felt as if he had never run more than a mile at a time. The cold had crept up his arms and legs and was burning his skin, while his hands and feet were barely movable.

Whenever his path led through bushes and low branches, snow fell down, got caught in the woolen fabric of his sweater and melted to a trickle, running down his spine. If it weren't for the fear that drove him on, as if a slave driver were standing behind him with a whip, he would have just let himself fall down to catch his breath, but he had to go on, he had to keep going.

Jensen followed the narrow path that led over the hill, directly toward the chalet. Warm light spilled from the windows, filling the dark cold of New Year's Eve with brightness and hope. He could see cars parked in a small clearing not far from the house. Music drifted from inside, and a puff of smoke slid into the sky above the snow-covered roof. Jensen stumbled forward, climbing the final rise. A small mountain that seemed like Mount Everest to him.  
The porch was peppered with tealights and a Christmas wreath hung from the double front door.

  
Jensen stumbled inside, nearly falling to his knees and holding onto a wooden beam with difficulty. The warmth in the room almost took his senses away. Stars danced before his eyes and his racing heartbeat pulsed in his temples.  
Someone called his name, someone else pulled him to a chair or an armchair. He couldn't tell.  
Incoherent words bubbled out of his mouth, accompanied by the whistling and rattling of his breath.

"Misha.... Accident... Mountain rescue... Help... we just got lost.... shit... we shouldn't have... We need help...."

A shadow knelt in front of him, and a blow to his face, gentle enough not to hurt him, but strong enough to de-ice his thoughts and set them straight back.  
Richard's face materialized before Jensens eyes and his colleague looked at him unaccustomedly serious.  
"Jensen... concentrate... What happened?"

Someone put a blanket around Jensen's shoulders and with clammy fingers he pulled it tighter around his body.

"Road was impassable because a fallen tree. Went down a different road.... Took a wrong turn. Then there was this damn snow bank and the car was stuck. Nothing worked. Misha said it couldn't be far and we started walking. It got dark so fast and snow came up and then there was the precipice. Like an old quarry and Misha walked in front of me and didn't see it. Crashed. Broke his leg and pelvis or something.... I dragged him under a ledge and found some dry twigs for a fire and left him my jacket.... I should have stayed there.“

The words bubbled out of Jensen and panic resonated in every syllable. He ripped the blanket off his shoulders, tried to get up, but Richard pushed him back.  


"You're not going anywhere," he said sharply, looking at Kim, who had already pulled out her cell phone and was on the call. Word for word she relayed everything Jensen had said, nodding at the answers she was getting, and after a few moments put the cell phone aside. 

"The rescue is notified. They are sending two teams and a rescue helicopter. A police man will come over here.“

"Good...you see Jensen. The rescue is on its way and soon they will have found Misha and will take him to a hospital," he tried to reassure his younger colleague. Jensen nodded, but still felt the urge to run back into the darkness. Back to Misha.  
  
  
Warm hands encircled his wrist and when he looked up, he saw Sam's gentle smile. "Come closer to the fire. You need to get warm, have something to eat and drink," she said softly, but so firmly that Jensen silently got up and, swaying more than walking, approached the large fireplace in front of which stood a wide leather sofa. His legs were still shaking, his whole body was aching, and the warmth that was slowly trying to push its way back into his limbs made his muscles tingle.  
Sam sat down next to him, pulling a small stool in front of him, and Kim placed a bowl filled with a nice smelling soup and some crackers on the table.

"You did the right thing, Jen."

Sam put a cracker in Jensen's hand, but the thin cookie fell to the floor, breaking into a crumb.

"I can't hold." Jensen's voice was a whisper and Sam just nodded, took another cracker, dipped it briefly in the soup and brought it to Jensen's mouth.  
He barely tasted the soup and the cracker was nothing more than a tasteless mass, but his body reacted to the one bite of food like a ravenous animal. His stomach growled and sent a surge of nausea through his body in response to the unexpected yet used food. For a brief moment Jensen closed his eyes, trying to take a deep breath to push the nausea aside. Sam handed him another cracker, held it in front of his mouth, like a priest holding a wafer in front of the faithful. Slowly Jensen chewed, recognizing the taste of salt and tomato.

"Very good. Your body needs energy... One bite at a time," Sam cheered Jensen up.

With the food came the warmth back into his body and with the warmth the tiredness.  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

A voice came to him in his dream, spoke his name, and someone touched him on the arm, gently shook him. Under half-closed lids he looked into the fire, then let his gaze wander and recognized Sam standing next to the sofa, accompanied by a man in a uniform. Police? Immediately what had happened popped into his head and he hastily tried to sit up. Stars and multicolored dots appeared in his field of vision again and he let himself sink back onto the sofa with a groan.

"Jensen? That's Staff Sergeant Hastings."

"What about Misha," came over Jensen's lips and this time he pulled himself up more slowly until he could lean his back against the armrest of the sofa. The room was empty, with only Sam and the policeman standing beside the sofa, the latter wrapped in a thick winter parker. Gloves tucked into the breast pocket of the jacket and the fur trim of the cap the policeman wore was sprinkled with snowflakes.

"Mr. Collins has been found. Rescue is in the process, which is proving difficult in the terrain and weather conditions," the policeman explained, with a petty nuance in his voice that made Jensen wince. 

"Proving difficult? What does that mean? And how is he?"  
The cop pulled out a pad and pulled a pen from his jacket. 

"The victim is alive and being cared for as good as it is possible on the ground. Due to the rough terrain a winching process must be performed, which is very complicated in these wind and weather conditions and must be well prepared." The officer cleared his throat briefly, then looked at the still-blank page of his notepad.  
"Mr. Ackles, now if you would tell me what exactly happened?"

"Why do you want to know?" 

Something didn't sit right with Jensen about the way the cop was performing here. He didn't seem to have learned compassion and concern in training.

"These are the procedures and regulations I have to follow. Rountine-like questions to clarify insurance issues and determine that it really is an accident."  
He tried to smile, but in doing so looked as if he had bitten into a lemon.

"Really? An accident? Do they think I pushed Misha down there on purpose?"   
Jensen sat bolt upright on the sofa, glaring angrily at the cop.

"Jen, nobody believes that. Just answer the cop's questions." Jensen heard the sharpness in Sam's words.

"All right. Our group has booked this chalet for New Year's Eve. We're working in Vancouver as actors and this is the last New Year's Eve before the show we're shooting gets cancelled. Misha picked me up at the Vancouver airport this morning because I spent Christmas with my family in Texas. We went with a rental car. The road we were supposed to use was blocked. There was a tree across the road making it impassable. Misha thought there had to be another way and we tried one of the forest trails, but got stuck in a snow bank after a while. We decided to continue on foot, thinking that the chalet would not be far."

"Did you have a cell phone with you with which you could have called for help?"

"My cell phone was in the car with a dead battery. Misha had his cell phone with him but no reception."

The cop crinkled some notes on his pad. "And then?"

"We kept walking. Snow began to fall and it got dark faster than we thought. From a hilltop, we could see that the chalet was on one of the other hills. Despite the snow, the lights of the house were visible. We struck the direction, but could not see much in the darkness. Even the light from the flashlight I was carrying was barely enough. We both missed the precipice and Misha, who was walking in front of me...," Jensen cleared his throat and reached for a glass of water that was sitting on the stool next to the cooled soup. 

"Your acquaintance crashed?" The policeman completed the sentence and Jensen could only nod. 

"I was able to climb down the side. Misha was awake, but his leg and hip were injured. He tried to get up, but couldn't. I managed to pull him under a ledge and make a small fire out of dry twigs that were there. Then I came here and called the rescue."

The policeman nodded, wrote silently for some time, then looked back at Jensen. "You are both American citizens with work permits for Canada?"

"Yes, and before you ask further. We both have overseas health insurance."

"Good. That's it from my side.... for now. Do you have any questions?"

Jensen could literally tell the cop had no desire to answer questions, let alone be here at all. He had probably been sitting in his little police station, eating donuts and sipping coffee, and had been disturbed.

"What hospital are they going to take him to." Sam escorted the cop to the door. 

"That will be up to the helicopter rescue crew. Kamloops, Keowna or direct to Vancouver, the hospitals there are designed for such cases. Do you need another doctor here?"  
  
  
After Sam had escorted the policeman to the door, she returned and settled down on the sofa next to Jensen. Her TV-son was staring into the fire of the fireplace, the blanket wrapped around his shoulders and literally holding on to the water glass that his knuckles already stood out white. 

"Such cases," Jensen gave out pressed and threw the water glass on the floor. A brown stain spread across the floorboards and the glass rolled under the sofa. "Surely this guy cared more about making sure we weren't on Canada's back than he did about making sure Misha or I were okay. What does he think, that I led Mish into the woods to shove him down there on purpose?... It was a fuckin accident." Jensen felt the panic creeping up inside him again, mixed with not knowing how Misha was doing.

"Of course it was an accident and no one in this house believes otherwise. Forget the cop and his stupid questions and try to get some more rest. You're still pale and shaking."

"Sam, if I only knew he was okay. I'm... I'm scared Samantha. It's cold as ass outside and I, I wasn't fast enough. What if the fire went out or some critter arrived? Are there cougars or wolves or... oh shit. I shouldn't have left him alone!"

Sam slid to the ground, knelt in front of Jensen and put her hands on his knees.  
"Listen to me... It's going to be okay. I can understand you being scared and in shock. Misha is tough and you did your best to help him. You will see. Tomorrow you will get a message to which hospital they took him and then we will know more. But you can't do anything to help him now, except try to come down a bit, eat and rest."  
She stroked his thighs reassuringly, then stood up and walked to the wooden door that led to the upper floor. 

"Sam?" Please don't leave me alone he added in thoughts. 

"I'll go get you something to eat and then come back."  
  
After Sam left the room, Jensen was overcome with the feeling that he was the last person on earth. He was aware of the low murmur from upstairs, but it sounded more like a radio playing in another room. He understood nothing and could not even distinguish the voices. The wood crackled and creaked in the fireplace and the flames created a cozy shadow play on the walls and beams. Only now did Jensen have time to look around properly.  
The room was smaller than expected and more like a small apartment than a chalet. Under the window next to the entrance was another sofa, where a mountain of jackets and scarves were placed. A few chests of drawers stood against the opposite wall and two doors opened, one of which led upstairs.  
Misha would have definitely liked the style of the chalet. Quirky, rustic, yet cozy. With a sigh, Jensen pulled his legs up, snuggled into the corner of the sofa as if he wanted to crawl into the cushion.

"I can tell there's more."

Jensen winced when he heard Sam's voice. He hadn't noticed her coming back, a tray in her hand, loaded with sandwiches, terijaki skewers, apple pie, chocolate pudding, and two bottles of Family Business beer.

"What do you mean?"

"You tell me, Jensen?" 

She set the tray down and instantly a delicious smell hit Jensen's nose. It felt strange to fill his stomach now, but it still grumbled and he felt he was more than hungry. He grabbed one of the neatly stacked sandwiches from his plate and bit off one of the corners. The taste of tuna, lettuce and egg spread through his mouth and before he knew it, the sandwich was gone from his hand and on its way to his stomach. Sam eyed him like a mother looks at her child eating solid food for the first time after being out with the flu. Playing Dean's mom for so long had rubbed off on real life, too. She knew her boys, and she could tell there was something bothering Jensen that went far beyond Misha's accident.


	3. Chapter 3

  
Sam had seen Jensen's looks when he was worried about Jared, when his brother was fighting a renewed battle with depression. She saw him eating and drinking, simultaneously staring at some immiscible point in the flames, absorbed in his thoughts. The concern reflected in the Texan's eyes went deeper.She could see the tears shimmering in his eyes and she could literally see Dean in front of her, trying with all his remaining strength to keep the emotions out.

  
"I hope you don't hate me for what I'm about to ask you, but.... Misha's more than just your best friend, isn't he?"

  
Sam didn't need an answer. She saw Jensen freeze in motion, his still pale skin showing a slight blush. He lowered the hand in which he held the second sandwich, shrugging.  
  


"I... I don't know. I can't handle what's going on here and here," he pointed from his head to his heart, "I can't handle it."  
  


"Maybe I can help you figure it out? I don't want to push you, Jen, I hope you know that, but my instinct tells me it might help you."  
  


Jensen nodded, continuing to stare into the fire as he put the sandwich back on the plate.  
"Mish is a person you enjoy being with," he began. "There's hardly anyone who doesn't feel comfortable in his presence and treated with respect. You know the tweets about him, his humor and his good-natured nature." Sam's nod acknowledged Jensen. Misha wasn't just playing an angel, he was one in real life, someone who used his energy and talents to help others and spread happiness in the world.   
"I thought that what I felt in his presence was what everyone felt. Security, contentment and something that can be compared to a high. At some point I realized... I think it was in Rome at the con where I drank a little too much apple juice, that it was different.... I had seen the videos of the panels a few days later, I saw myself looking at him and my stomach started to rebel like Mike Tyson had taken a swing at me personally."  
  


Jensen could remember that unsettling feeling like it was yesterday. The realization of having a crush on Misha was as abstruse as it was revelatory. Suddenly, so many things became clear, and at the same time, so many new questions arose.  
  


"Does Danneel know about this?"  
  


"Yes. Of course, she's my wife. What kind of husband would I be if I hid it. Eventually she would have noticed something was wrong anyway. She notices things like that pretty quickly. She was amazingly relaxed."  
He had talked to Dee all night then, always with the thought in the back of his mind that his wife would hate him for it and move out with the kids. Instead, she had listened to him quietly, asked questions without judging him, and promised him she wouldn't breathe a word about it. Not to Gen or Jared, nor to Misha himself. Three days later, there was a book on his pillow about polyamory and loving more than one person.  
  


"And Misha?"  
  


Jensen winced and shook his head violently. "No, no... no. There's too much at stake.... I can't tell him. What, what if he doesn't want anything to do with me then.... I don't want to lose the friendship..."  
Hundreds of times he had gone over it, had thought about how to approach talking to Misha about it. He had come up with arguments, but each time the panic had won out that after his confession everything was different and would take a turn for the worse.  
  


"I don't think that would happen. No matter if Misha feels the same way as you or not. This one wouldn't be a reason for him to quit the friendship. You know him, Jen. Misha doesn't give up on someone he's grown fond of, no matter what the circumstances."  
  


It sounded so simple coming from Sam's mouth, and Jensen knew she was probably right. Misha had stressed so many times that family and friendship were above everything else to him. Friendship was the highest good and he would walk through fire for his friends. But even Misha had limits. Friendship did not mean sacrificing his own salvation and even if Misha tried to bring normalcy back into the relationship, Jensen would not be able to stand it. It would probably be him who would pull back for the good of all. To the outside world, it would look like they went different ways after the show and just couldn't find the time to maintain the intense friendship. Different schedules, hundreds of miles in between. Jensen shook his head again, got up from the sofa and started pacing the small room like a tiger in a cage. His gaze fell on a small wall clock facing near the door, showing a quarter past two.

"Happy New Year, by the way..."  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time is hard and anxiety and worries about all the stuff going on in the world made it hard to write, but I am still going on.
> 
> So I am asking you, what would you appreciate more.
> 
> Updates in a shorter period of time, but then they will only as long as this chapter, or waiting for an update for a longer period of time. Then the chapter will be bigger.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As wished. Updates more frequently, but shorter texts. It's good for me, so I can keep that story going without to much pressure.

The first thing he felt as his senses slowly fought their way back into the realm of the waking was his aching back. Followed by a pounding in his skull and a tingling in his left arm, which was wedged somewhere between him and the sofa and had not yet realized that it was time to wake up.  
Tired, Jensen opened his eyes, blinked into the glow of the fire still burning in the fireplace, and then looked over the edge of the armrest to the windows. Snow still seemed to be falling, but it was bright and the white of the bushes he could see through the narrow windows seemed almost friendly. A glance at the clock told him that it was already afternoon. Jensen flipped back the covers and sat up. His head protested and his stomach also rebelled at the sudden movement. On the side table was a bottle of water, a glass and a can of aspirin. A note leaned against the bottle and Jensen recognized Samantha's handwriting.   
  


"Fresh towels are in the bathroom. Send a message or just come up if you need anything."

Jensen took two of the slim white pills from the pill tube, popped them in his mouth and took a sip of water straight from the bottle. Hopefully the pills would work quickly against the pounding in his head, because he couldn't drive a car in that state. At the same time, he wanted to get out of here as soon as possible and find out where they had taken Misha and how he was doing. After a second sip, he carefully got up, stretched, and then went to his bag, which was next to the bench. Apparently someone had been by the car that very night or morning. 

With fresh clothes in his hand, he crossed the room and entered the small but practically furnished bathroom of the basement. A stack of light blue towels lay on a small side table separating the sink from the toilet. Small sample bottles of shower gel and shampoo stood in the shower, and on a shelf under the mirror lay a toothbrush still shrink-wrapped and a small tube of toothpaste. The landlords of the house seemed to have thought of everything. Slowly Jensen peeled himself out of the clothes he had been wearing since yesterday and threw them carelessly on the floor in front of him. Then he looked down at himself. Countless small red scratches covered his arms and legs. Blackberry vines had dug into his clothes as he had tried to find the shortest way through the thicket. Were there even blackberries here?

Jensen shrugged and his gaze slid to the mirror. The man staring back at him seemed so strange. Dark shadows lay under his puffy eyes and the prickly bushes had left their mark on his face. Red scratches ran down his cheek, competing with the feverish glow of his face. Shaking his head, he averted his eyes and stepped into the shower, which was far more spacious on the inside than it looked from the outside. Jensen turned on the regulator and the sudden cold stream of water made him yelp and stumble back. With shaky fingers he turned the knob and within seconds the gush of ice water turned into a warm downpour. Jensen closed his eyes, leaned against the tiles and let the water run down his body. He tried not to think about it, but the images of Misha crouching there in the snow pushed their way into his thoughts so penetratingly that he shivered and kept turning up the shower knob until the shower stall was filled with hot steam.

"It'll be okay, Jensen," he reassured himself as he unscrewed one of the tubes and dripped a blob of the shampoo directly onto his hair.

"You'll see. By the time you get to the hospital later, he'll probably be waiting impatiently or flirting with one of the nurses." The thought wasn't far-fetched, and Jensen clung with it that it would be exactly like that. He would find out which hospital they had taken Misha to, would drive there and find Misha in his room. Cell phone in hand, livestreaming on Instagram. Hastily, Jensen washed his hair, soaped his body, ignoring the burning of the many small wounds, and got out of the shower. Wet as he was, he got into the fresh clothes, briefly rubbed his hair dry and decided to just let the dirty clothes disappear in the trash can under the window. Just as quickly as he had finished showering, he brushed his teeth and then re-entered the main room. Sam was sitting on the sofa, looking toward him, when she heard the bathroom door open.

"The hospital called," she said bluntly, and the look on her face made Jensen's blood run cold."They answered Kim's cell phone because they had the number from 911. They didn't say much."

"What about him? Sam?"

"They had to operate on him for a long time. Before he was wheeled into surgery, he told the nurses to notify you. That's all I know."

"That's good...right? Isn't it? I mean... he could talk and ..."   
Jensen leaned against the wall, took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. Surely if they operated on someone, it meant there was hope? 

"Yes, that's good, Jensen."

Jensen nodded. "I have to go to the hospital."  
He pushed himself off the wall, crossed the small room and grabbed his bag, stuffing everything that had just fallen out back in. 

Behind him, he heard Sam stand up. "I know, and I'll drive you. I've already got mine and Misha's stuff in my car. Richard will take care of the rental car from you." She stepped closer and he felt her hand on his shoulder.   
  



End file.
